Sensible Shoes
by sdbubbles
Summary: Or lack thereof. Sandra's choice of footwear leaves her with a nasty injury, but Gerry is always there to cheer her up. Even if she wants to kill him.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This came to me when I was almost asleep, and I just felt like writing it.**

**Sarah x**

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><p>Sandra ran and ran after the smart-arse teenager who decided to scarper the second he discovered she was a Detective Superintendent from the Met. She scrambled up the stairs and across the busy road and down an alley, until suddenly she found herself on the ground, holding her rapidly swelling ankle. Her phone rang and she winced as she had to ever so slightly move her foot to retrieve her shrieking mobile. "Sandra Pullman," she answered, slightly breathless from the pain in her foot.<p>

"Brian and I have got him," Jack informed her. "Nearly ran the silly sod over," he chuckled. "Where are you? Gerry said you chased him."

"In the alley across the road from where he started running," she answered. It was bloody agony. Not to mention that Gerry would have a field day with this. "I'll phone him and tell him to come and get me," she sighed.

Jack didn't ask why she needed Gerry's assistance, but just agreed with her and promised to take the boy back to the station and question him. She consented to that plan and hung up. Bloody hell, how could falling be so painful? She never fell when she was chasing someone. Until now. But then four inch high peep-toe heels couldn't exactly be classed as sensible footwear, could it? She phoned Gerry, who answered with worry evident in his voice.

"Gerry, get over here and help me get back to the car," she ordered him in a very hostile tone. She had to remind herself to calm her temper. It wasn't his fault she had fallen over. He, like Jack, didn't ask, but he was there in less than a minute. She heard his groan and smirked a little to herself.

"I knew you was gonna do yourself an injury with those soddin' shoes," he told her. He knelt down at her feet and pulled her shoes off, leaving her feet bare. It was clear that she had at least sprained her right ankle; it was very swollen. He handed her the shoes and put his arm around her body, holding her upright while she tried to balanced herself on her left foot. "Slowly," he warned her, knowing she, being Sandra Pullman, would try and rush across the road. Well, the cars could just wait. In fact, even better, there was an underpass.

"My feet are going to get dirty," she complained. She didn't see the smile he gave her. She could be such a girl at times, even though she pretended that she was a total hard-faced cow when she wanted something done. It was the same with the maggots, and those rats Brian had found so interesting. She hated dirt, wriggly insects and dead rodents.

"Accident and emergency for you, I think," he concluded after surveying her foot for a second as the entered the underpass. She moaned in pain when she was forced to lean on her right foot to get down the stairs to the tunnel. "You're a silly bugger sometimes, Sandra," he enlightened her, just in case she had thought that running in those shoes was a smart idea.

"Strickland told me no more cases until we sorted the files out, so I was dressed for staying in the office all day," she quickly defended herself. "I didn't know he was going to chuck that case at me. Which he did, quite literally." Gerry sniggered beside her, although he did think Strickland was out of line when he threw the file at Sandra this morning, telling her to solve it. He knew she was tough, but he still didn't like her being treated badly. She was too good for that.

"Well, that's not the point. You're ankle's all messed up now, innit?" he sighed. The stumbled along in silence until they got to the car and Gerry carefully helped Sandra into to passenger seat. He drove to the hospital, and before long, they were looking at an X-ray of Sandra's badly swollen ankle.

"No breaks," the doctor told her. "But there _is_ a hell of a lot of soft tissue damage. I'll get a nurse to bandage it up, and you'll be on crouches for a fortnight," he warned her, just waiting for her to argue.

"A fortnight?" she repeated in disgust. "You do realise I'm police officer, right? I can't just take a fortnight off. Strickland is pissed off enough as it is!" she told him. _A fortnight!_ She repeated again in her head. _This is just bloody brilliant, isn't it?_

"You don't have to take it out of work if you don't want to," the doctor said. "But no driving, no running, no high heels, and definitely no chasing after teenage boys in those things," he added, pointing to the black, insanely high, shoes in her hands. He, like Gerry, was amused at how it had happened, and that she had even attempted to outrun a young man while wearing such impractical footwear.

The nurse came and strapped her foot up, from above her ankle to the ball of her foot. Gerry went to his car, after offering to lend her the trainers Paula left there the other day, as they were far preferable to the shoes that had caused her to fall in the first place. When she was discharged, and they were back in the office, she immediately started complaining about her restrictions. "Two weeks stuck in this miserable office while you lot have all the fun," she whined.

"Oh, shut up, Sandra, and just be thankful you ain't got a broken ankle," Gerry said after quarter of an hour. "That could have been a lot worse." She knew that was true, but she hated being confined to the building when she knew she could do more good out questioning and hauling in suspects.

"Look on the bright side," Brian piped up. She looked at him expectantly, because she didn't see anything bright about the situation. "You can get that filing done now."

Sandra glared at him, resisting the urge to throw something at him. "That makes me feel so much better about it," she retorted, her remark laced with a good dose of sarcasm.

"That's what you get for trying to run in them stupid shoes," Gerry reminded her yet again. He smirked into his coffee mug. He loved to watch her get irritated. It brought out the fight in her. She didn't seem to realise how attractive she was when she was angry or in a strop. She threw her pen, and it hit him squarely on the cheek. "What was that for?" he demanded.

"If you say another word about my shoes, you'll be the one in A & E," she threatened him. She was only kidding but she also knew that he would believe her. She was temperamental, and she often did on purpose. If they didn't know how she would react, they were less inclined to try anything that was _too_ moronic. "People have been murdered with heels like those," she added.

They bickered like this for the rest of the day, although Gerry did, when the other two went out, treat her very well, looking after her. And, though she would never confess to it, she did appreciate the help he gave her, even if it was accompanied by a quick-witted comment. But that was the way it worked: cheek and jokes at the other's expense, but a great deal of care and respect. That was their friendship, and she was grateful to have someone to keep her laughing. If she didn't laugh, she sometimes thought she might cry instead. But Gerry made sure that didn't happen. No matter what, he was always there to make her smile. And, for that, Sandra was eternally grateful.

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><p><strong>Hope it was OK!<strong>

**Please leave a review and tell me what you think!**

**Sarah x**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Please do not ask me why I'm continuing with this. I blame my brother; he bought me a rather nice pair of trainers (how this affects this story will become clear when you read on) but I kind of felt like writing something a litlle more light-hearted tonight, too. So this is going to be a few chapters long now.**

**Sarah x**

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><p>"I am <em>not<em> driving home tonight," Sandra announced, wincing as she put her crouches down and got into a chair. "That was so bloody painful."

"If walking hurts, did you really expect to be able to use the pedals in the car?" Jack chuckled at her. He shook his head while he turned back to his computer screen.

"I got here, didn't I?" she retorted, looking like a petulant child. "So which one of my lovely boys is volunteering to drive me home?" she asked, fluttering her eyelids in a very sarcastic way. She looked between Gerry and Jack, knowing that Brian did not hold a driver's license.

"I can't," Jack replied immediately. "I have a doctor's appointment straight after work."

"Right!" Sandra said brightly. "Geee-wyyyy," she pretended to plead with him, with her best pout and big eyes, leaning over the side of the sofa. She could see him roll his eyes at her, but there was an amused look on his face. And, after how well he treated her yesterday when they were alone, she knew that he actually did give a damn about her discomfort.

"Oh, alright, then. Since you're looking so nice in that tracksuit and-" he stopped, looking her up and down. _What the bloody hell is she wearing?_ he thought to himself, staring at her in her navy jersey hoodie and sweatpants, and black high-top trainers with patent spots on them. He had to admit, though, he rather liked this relaxed look. Under her zippy-up sweater she wore a plain white, low cut vest that revealed a fair bit of her chest.

"What?" she demanded. "If I'm going to be confined to the office, I might as well be as comfortable as possible. Who cares if I look like a slob? I don't care if I look like the Gorgon Medusa. Nobody's going to see me, are they?" she told him, but he was not paying attention to her voice. She had a nagging suspicion that he enjoyed how she looked wearing sports clothes. Not that it really bothered her. She'd worked with him long enough to know that, even while he often enjoyed the view, he would never touch her without permission.

"Nah. Just not used to relaxed Sandra," he smirked back at her. "We're used to your scary mode," he joked. She made a face at him and diverted her attention to the case file in front of her.

"Brian and I are going to speak to that boy's mother," Jack said. "See how she feels about him and his pals stealing cars left, right and centre. And suspected murder," he added as an afterthought. "See you when we get back," he told Sandra and Gerry as he and Brian pulled their coats on.

When the other two were safely out the door, Gerry piped up, "I was just joking about your scary mode." Sandra turned around and looked at him blankly for a second until she worked out what he was referring to. Then she burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. Did he really think she needed reassurance that she wasn't a _total _cow?

Gerry grinned and went over to sit next to her. She grimaced as she shifted over to accommodate him. "Have you taken them painkillers the doc gave you?" he demanded, already knowing the answer to that one.

"I don't like them," she complained. "They make me dopey," confessed Sandra. She had taken them last night, and, before they'd knocked her out for ten hours, she felt so dense. When she woke up this morning, she found she'd left her kitchen cupboard open, put a pot in the fridge after washing it and left her television running all night after forgetting to switch it off before she finally gave up and hobbled along to bed at ten o'clock.

Gerry just shook his head. He couldn't force the bloody things down her throat; and if they made her thick, she would refuse to take them under any circumstances. "What about different ones, then?" he suggested.

"Meh," she grumbled. "I don't like painkillers, full stop."

"It's better than pain, though," he reminded her.

"I'm fine!" she exclaimed. "I'm fifty years old, not a little kid. I can handle a sore foot," she enforced rather fiercely. She turned and saw from Gerry's face that he wasn't joking about her "scary mode" as he called it. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"You can handle pain but you can't drive your car because it's too sore?" he challenged her sceptically. "Right," he drawled out, gently mocking her stubbornness. "That makes total sense."

"Why do you even care, Gerry? It's not like you _have _to, is it?" snapped Sandra, her patience wearing hazardously thin. He simply stared at her, as if the answer was obvious, right in front of her, slapping her across that face with her crouches. He rolled his eyes at her, giving her some leeway for her density, considering the pain she was in.

"Because I don't like seeing you hurt, you muppet," he admitted, albeit with a smile. Her head snapped round. This rather reminded her of that situation in an interview room when he was getting pissed off about her diving for evidence when the Dive Teams wouldn't do it. The look on his face when he finally admitted that it was not only chauvinism driving his frustration, but an real care for her well-being and safety, was priceless. What's more, she would never, ever let herself forget that admission, because it meant he was there to try and protect her, however much she resisted.

"So this is what I get for wearing nice clothes and nice shoes, is it?" she sighed, diverting the conversation from the topic of Gerry's care for her.

"Gawd," he started on her. "I honestly don't get why you dress in skinny jeans and high heels if they're not comfortable and practical."

"They look nice," she told him, as if that statement was the answer to all his queries. He was shaking his head at her. Again. What had she said wrong now? Three words, that was all she'd said, and he was wearing a look of hopelessness.

"Sandra, you could walk around in rags and still look stunning," he told her firmly. She turned to fully face him, wincing slightly when her foot screamed in protest at the tiniest movement, taken aback by his blunt honesty. "You don't need to try and be pretty, because you're beautiful as you are. In fact, you look amazing in your tracksuit and trainers."

_Bloody hell_, she thought. _Since when was Gerry this nice to me? _"Blimey! Did I miss the personality transplant?" she joked with him, but she knew he was serious. She kissed his cheek gently, and, to her surprise, he put his arm around her shoulders. He was making her nervous now; she had images of him kissing her fully and passionately on the lips. What really worried her was that it didn't bother her. In fact, and this was _really_ weird, she would be quite happy for him to kiss her.

But instead, she let him pull her close and rest his chin on her head for a while, as he tried to distract her from her pain. This, she found, was the best painkiller she could have discovered.

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><p><strong>Hope this is OK!<strong>

**Please drop a review and tell me what you thought!**

**Sarah x**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! And if updates are a little slow on all my stories...well, let's just say that I really hate it when BT start messing with the lines!**

**Sarah x**

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><p>Sandra looked at Gerry as he drove her home. Something had changed in the way they treated each other today. Gerry's startling honesty had made her think about why the three woman who divorced him were still his friends. <em>That <em>was one hell of an achievement, and Sandra thought she was beginning to understand why. He was honest but he was also caring when it was required of him. He had surprised her twice since she had hurt herself with the other side to his personality.

When they stopped outside Sandra's home, Gerry took her handbag from her and went around to open the car door for her. "I can take that," she objected, pointing to her bag. He just gave her an amused look that made her grin at him like a child. "My keys are in the inside pouch," she told him.

He opened the bag and dug out her keys, while looking in disbelief at the inside of her bag. "You know, I don't get why women carry such utter rubbish in their bags," he said, shaking his head. He picked out a bar of soap and asked, "Seriously?"

"What?" she said. "Some bathrooms don't have soap!" This just made Gerry laugh as he ran up the steps to unlock her door. She watched as he placed her bag inside and came back for her.

"You alright?" he asked her, because she moaned when she stood up and was forced to, very briefly, put her weight on her damaged foot. He immediately caught her arm and guided her her up the steps so she wouldn't trip and fall, which would probably cause her a far worse injury than she already had.

Together they made their way to the living room and they fell back onto the sofa. Sandra stared at Gerry again. This was not what she was used to from him. He had always been protective of her, and her of him, but he was never so...intimate with her as he had been since she hurt herself. "What?" he demanded. "Have I got dirt on my face or something?"

"No," she answered with a smile. She had never thought about Gerry like this before, but she could just envisage living here with him, being best friends and lovers and protecting each other every day. It was strange, to say the least, but it was something completely new to her. She was still staring at him; she couldn't help it. She was just so confused about him right now.

"Then what is it?" he asked, and she realised that she must have been creeping him out a little with her stare.

"Nothing," she answered innocently. "I've just never seen you be like this with me." Gerry chuckled and shook his head again. "You're always sort of, you know, insensitive," she gave him a wide smile.

"Sandra," he said. "I'm not a total tosser. I don't like seeing people, especially women, in pain. And I hate it when you get hurt," he admitted. "When you crashed that car and we were put on a different ward from you, I was worried sick because nobody would tell me what state you were in. You don't understand that, even if I do act like a pain in the arse, I really do care."

"You're a naughty boy, not a bastard," she grinned, repeating his words from years ago, sitting on the bench on the hill. "Do you want a drink?" she offered, grabbing her crutches.

"I'll get it," he replied. "White wine?" he called back to her from her kitchen.

"Yeah," she returned, smiling inwardly. She felt like a little princess as he did everything for her. He poured her drink and she started knocking it back as soon as she could.

"Hey, hey, hey," he exclaimed. "Aren't you on painkillers?"

"Nah. Not taking them again. Like I said, they make me thick." She took another deep drink from her glass. Dutch courage. That's what she was drinking so quickly for.

"Thicker than usual?" he joked. She slapped his arm lightly but she still wore a smile, her brightly white teeth showing themselves. "I meant what I said, you know," he told her, very unexpectedly. "You don't need to try. You're beautiful."

Sandra moved closer to him, very slowly. Lightly, she touched his cheek, briefly wondering when she started getting so attached to him. "Sandra," he warned her gently. "Are you sure you want to go down that road?"

She looked into his eyes, and all she saw was concern. But her mind was made up now. "Positive," she smiled. She advanced on him and pressed her lips onto his, crawling carefully onto her knees, still very cautious of her knackered ankle. Gerry had his arms around her, pulling her closer. And then there was a shot of pain from her foot when she twisted it wrong.

"Ow, ow, ow!" she groaned. She pulled away from him, and her face had drained a horrible white that made it clear that she was in a huge amount of pain.

"Did I hurt you?" Gerry asked worriedly.

"No," she replied, her eyes closed and her face screwed up as she tried to ignore the pain. "I bent my foot the wrong way." Gerry went straight to her foot, and thankfully found no evidence of any worse inflammation in her foot.

"Well, it's not any worse." He patted her thigh and watched her eyes show the smile she was in too much pain to give, and the giggle she was too mature to release at this gesture.

Sandra sighed in relief. She let Gerry help her to her feet and she managed to hobble along to her stairs, and then remembered that she had been legally stoned last night when she made it to the top. She was off her medication and very much aware of the state her foot was in. Suddenly, her feet were no longer on the floor, and she was staring at Gerry's face.

She smiled when she realised that he was going to carry her up the stairs to bed. And when they got there, Sandra resumed her assault she began down on the sofa.

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><p><strong>Hope this is OK!<strong>

**Please leave a review and tell me what you think!**

**Sarah x**


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